


Feeling the Pull

by Gingercityjazz



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BAMF Molly, F/M, Fingering, First Time, Lace Panties, Moonlight, Naughty Sherlock, Nipple Play, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Exchange, Sherlock Makes Deductions, Sherlock's Voice, Sherlolly - Freeform, Stiletto Heels, Virgin Sherlock, lots of dirty dialogue, molly is his weakness, molly's not-so-small in a bustier, sherlock is a quick study, who owns who
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2718713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gingercityjazz/pseuds/Gingercityjazz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly and Sherlock have been dancing around their obvious tension for years, and it's spilling over. Molly decides to take control one night when she expects him to drop by her flat for another night of working through cases and invading her privacy. But Sherlock is not one for being lead around. Their slow burn builds to a breaking point.</p><p>It's going to get realllly dirty soon so hang onto 'your' knickers... ;)</p><p>***CHAPTER ADDED*** It's a smutty one, friends. First few rows will get wet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take Away What I Know is Mine

It took his eye what felt like an eternity to trace exactly where the tip of Molly’s jet black heel met the curve of her arch, smoothing perfectly up her ankle, strong but soft calf, his pupils wisely pooling larger to take in the sight of her knees, her lean supple thighs, right around that dip and swerve over her left cheek, coming to a halt at the scalloped black lace resting dangerously close to what he decided the moment he realized her ploy, would surely become his territory.

He’d only let himself in because Molly’s routine indicated her absence for at least an hour while she walked the neighbor’s Corgi.

Had he known this sight would drive him so crazy, he could have perhaps steeled himself, tamed his obsessive compulsion for detail. He had already known that usually simple forms of seduction would take an excruciatingly longer time for him to properly examine, and appreciate. But this was a genuine shock to his system, not because here she was in earnest, a firm but slightly trepidatious smile at her mouth, but here he was as well, seemingly unable to move. For what might only have been the second or third time in Sherlock’s life, he was unable to think his body into acting. It was instead betraying his usual instinct, and all he could register was his spine straightening in anticipation, his fingertips buzzing with some new desire- to touch that black lace and compare it’s feel to that of her skin?- and of course, there was the matter of his already body-skimming trousers apparently constricting themselves where the blood in his body rushed. Of course, she cut off his thought, in an attempt to keep his focus and not scare him off, he guessed.

“You can take your time.” Molly was nervous despite herself.

Oh I want to, he mused, smirking silently, and invisibly, from his shadowed position still in the doorframe. He was fully aware of her hesitance; it’s no easy feat mustering up the guts to make a move on a man like Sherlock Holmes. Darting his eyes around the room, adjusting to the sensation that his entire view would now be foggied up by what he’d just taken in (and that was just those legs, to say nothing of the upper half of her, also encased in heavy navy darkness beneath his recently burnt out desk lamp). Sherlock went about setting down his bag and sliding his hands up the collar of his jacket, as if to touch something he’d burned to for years meant readying himself by busying his hands on comfortably familiar terrain first. The soothe didn’t last; somehow Molly was inside his head again.

“Don’t think your worn collar has been graced with those firm hands enough over the years? Or nervous habits?”

“I don’t have those, and if I did they would take a form much more enticingly dangerous that fidgeting with fabrics.”

“Curious, that, because I have caught you on more than one occasion; ‘fidgeting’ with some of mine.”

Sherlock hadn’t a clue that while he was over during the night working on cases or clearing his head, Molly might awake from her usual sleeping spot on the couch and peek in on him in her bedroom, the only space in the flat that had ample room for him to walk and think. He’d suspected that his spending more and more time in there for research may have been a flimsy disguise to Molly, but he also understood her desires for him meant mutual playing of the fool when it came to what was truly at work in each of their heads. Plus, how was he to know that she’d passed up a stroll with the pup next door?

“Thought you’d noticed. Not that anything was missing though…” He snaked a hand into a pocket and removed a white stringy thong, to the shock of Molly. This she tried to hide.

“When did you take that? Strike that, what do you DO with it?” Her own excitement clipped her words for her; she was beginning to worry that her serene and captivating position would only weaken if he kept up with what she felt was his agreement to take part in the game. Still, she held herself firmly perched on the high stool, legs uncrossing deliciously and trading positions, one heel dangling in the light that cross-hatched from the window. _Of course tonight is a full moon_ , Molly mused as she took in her own slender legs and felt pride and arousal as she watched Sherlock move towards them, equally mesmerized. If the cards were in her favour then this night would be worth her considerably large risk.

“There are numerous ways in which I’ve made use of this artifact, but you are wrong in your belief that these are yours, Molly.” Sherlock was pushing his luck now, and loving it.

“Possession is 9/10ths of the law?” Molly was holding her ground in the shadows, understanding exactly where he was going with this play. It felt like much of her was his.

“Since this flimsy piece of lace was built to sheath your no doubt tight little quim, it’s ironic that all I’ve been able to think about it just exactly how I would peel it from your damp thighs… “ His voice lowered now. “…made damp by your wet heat, made damp because of me…” He tucked them into his trousers as he spoke. “These. Are. Mine.”

And with that, he descended upon her. Suddenly his face came into the pale light from her window, hers still in shadow. He seized each of her wrists firmly and held them at her sides, his thumbs pressing into her hips to hold her to her seat as much as to feel that delicious pulse quicken. That had been the first thing Sherlock remarked about sexual arousal firsthand; being able to register the physical signs of being turned on had not been easy for him until the day he first held Molly’s hand in the lab when coercing her into help on a case. He knew then of her want, but in that moment he felt his own blood pump that much faster and understood it then, if not acted on it until he was prepared for any scenario.

“Your pulse, that’s my favourite thing about how you respond to my touch.”

“So far.” She leaned in looking up at him. Exposed. The shade she hid behind now being breached by her delicate, pert nose, her gleaming eyes. _Fear is it?_ Sherlock inferred. _Or resolve; that I see in them_. He glanced down to find her apparently not so small after all, cleavage proudly on display and tightly held up with a rich red bustier. The Woman had many like it no doubt. This woman, however, he guessed had just the one. _Trying to play into my hand when you don’t know my cards, Molly?_ She now must know that she was all he wanted. He thought it best not to patronize her with this thought. She was clearly presenting herself for the taking after all. Not dangling carrots. Instead he felt she deserved a reward for her efforts, after all she was making herself clear about her desires. Wasn’t it high time he reciprocated?

“Yes, I’m quite certain it will be replaced for top of the list by your fingernails scratching down my back, or more likely that lovely arse in my hands while I’m deep in your dripping cunt.”

Molly’s body shot back to the counter in shock as Sherlock pulled her up to him, her feet barely able to stand in her 7” platform pumps, just tall enough to almost meet his eyeline.

“Strategic, those. Fancy yourself in control of this situation, or at the very least able to spar with me.”

“That, and, they look bloody hot on me.” Molly could feel her façade beginning to unravel at about the same speed as what felt like all the moisture in her body pooling at the apex of her thighs. She wondered if, in his infinite deductioning, Sherlock might be able to somehow sense exactly how his rich vocalizations could affect her.

“Mmmm Molly do avoid stating the obvious would you? “ His hands were sliding up her thighs as he met her gaze. “It’s unbecoming.”

Sherlock was certain he had delivered himself as Molly wanted, a willing, bantering, now practically salivating man. Perhaps there would be a dog for her to walk after all, should she keep this up.

“And a man who strides into a lady’s flat as if he owns the place, is it becoming of him to steal her knickers? To pin her to her perch assuming he is the man she waits for?”

Molly moved her head back slightly into the shadowy safety of her darkened counter, in hopes that she could command him into some form of submission, perhaps catch him questioning himself, if briefly.

Sherlock barely notched an eyebrow up to show her he knew when she meant to toy with him.

“As if another man’s touch…” he pulled his body away from her save for a single digit grazing her collarbone, “… could make your thighs tremble like they are right now. It’s not those heels that weaken your stance, is it, Molly?”

As he spoke her name, his already dangerously low range seemed to pull itself from further down, in what felt like her own deepest space. His breath was warm and menacingly close to her lips, all the while he held her still, by his words. _God his drinkable speech._

“As if another man’s words could make you bring to life those filthy fantasies you have of me, that you indulge while you think I’m not looking…” He pulled her arm up to his chest suddenly, hands gently wringing her tender flesh, held it to his own racing beat, drawing her fingers in circles over his breastbone “…touching yourself as if your hands were mine. Nobody else’s.” Molly's eye's widened at this.

With that, he drew her hand down the buttons on his shirt, sliding them open as he lowered her hand to his waistband.

“Going in for the kill, writhing around with your hand deep in the wetness that MY voice made. “

Molly’s breath became ragged and her body tensed as she leaned in close, trying to match his actions. “The wetness left behind on these, your trophy?”

She snuck her hand, daring him to stop her, into his front pocket to retrieve the thong. Her fingers sparked a split-second contact to his very thick, considerable hardness. Sherlock’s eyes flashed wildly, and a grin bore on his face. Before he had the chance, Molly slung the tiny swath into both hands like a cat’s cradle game and for an eternal fleeting moment, he had no sense of what she would do next.

Logic and reason were belonged to the moonlight, not in this space of heat between them. It was sublime not to have any clue. Then Molly did the only thing Sherlock would never have considered plausible, or even possible. She pulled the string taught and jammed the panties into her mouth, biting down firmly with her lips pulled up in a lion’s grin, and she winked at Sherlock Holmes.


	2. Against the Big Moon Sky Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock accepts the challenge of taking what Molly has presented. Herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get naughty and really drawn out in the conclusion. Strap in.

 

“I’ve never been so jealous of a piece of lace” Sherlock’s eyes met Molly’s with near-matched intensity and for the first time that night, if ever, the reality of what they were finally about to do was upon them.

 

He let his sight take her in once more before giving in to the anticipation of finally touching her, tasting her in the flesh. Sherlock had of course been considering the act Molly herself had just so boldy displayed for him, stopping himself just short of indulging, unsure of whether it crossed a line.

 

_Clearly we have crossed many, what’s one more?_

Sherlock began a devastatingly slow decent towards her mouth, watching her eyes search his and gently close as she sighed, and his teeth bit down on a loose string. For a breathless moment he thought of connecting his mouth to hers, and decided he’d prefer an unobstructed exploration. He pulled back and let the frilly thing fall between them to the floor, catching another sweet glimpse of Molly’s legs. As he swept his eyes back up her form, so went his hands to her waist, to her shoulders, and directly to the soft curve of her neck.

 

“I’m betting you’d like to know how they taste.” A low and challenging invite from Molly.

 

“I know how they taste. They taste like you.” Sherlock closed the space between them and pressed his damp lips to hers, wanting to devour but savouring instead. His right hand slid around to cup her cheek, catching some wonderfully soft tendrils with it. His left, a betrayer to his softly exploring tongue, had wrapped itself behind her tight bodice and was pulling her hips directly into his body, as if the force of his desire would break the fabric barrier.

 

“You have far too much clothing on.” Right on cue, from within his own mind, Molly was speaking. And kissing him. Molly was running her wet mouth along his, sliding it with urgency and alternating with restraint. Allowing herself to be held in place no longer, she slid her hands to Sherlock’s waist now, to his back, noting the pleasantness of his rough coat. _Well this needs to go,_ she thought as she broke the kiss.

 

She stripped him of it swiftly as he made his way along her jawline with his tongue, stopping only to flick at her earlobe so softly she thought the shiver would make her faint.

 

“Now how did I know your earlobes were so sensitive, Molly?” Sherlock grinned wildly at her, catching his breath and seeing her flush. Meeting her eyes again, he could only think of her rosy pout and just how he could have been so overtaken by her, and with only a fraction of their skin having met. “There is no amount of time enough for me have every inch of you, but I will.”

 

Sherlock’s mouth back on hers, hands now moving undecidedly all over her body, Molly’s breath caught as he skimmed low over her thigh and firmly held the space where her stockings gave way to bare skin. She pulled back to watch him as he lifted her by her arse onto the bar, planting her carefully before resuming his attack on her skin. Molly’s body was thrumming, feeling Sherlock’s big, rough hands, so calculatingly thorough, cataloguing her curves. Untying the silky knots in the back of her bustier, all while pillaging her mouth with nips and licks.

 

Once the last tie fell loose, Sherlock slid is hands under the fabric at her back and pulled her in close enough for the garment to rest against his chest, then he kissed her again, moving slightly back and letting it fall to the same fate as her white thong. Molly’s firm breasts looked luscious in the waning light, and Sherlock’s eyes grew darker still before he pulled back completely, hands drawing to his sides as if the sight of her bare for him was too much.

 

“Touch me.” Molly was noticeably desperate for contact, and Sherlock knew he had to make this last, couldn’t be giving in too quickly to their game. 

 

“I intend to do far more than just touch you, Molly. Tell me, are you sensitive here?” Sherlock bent slighty, hands frustratingly in his pockets and just the warmth of his breath near her chest. “If I traced my tongue around them” He was unsure whether or not Molly had even been with men who knew well enough to find out, or to that point if she had found out by her own hand.

 

“Oh God Sherlock, yes please.”

 

Sherlock looked up at her, slid his freed hands to her inner thighs and spread her legs as wide as the bartop would dictate, and ran his tongue from her stomach straight up to the spot between her breasts. His hands held to her legs, massaging as his tongue made large concentric circles at the outer swell of her pert breast, first left then right. As the circles got smaller he heard Molly mumbling something sounding like please.

 

“What’s that darling? Please what?”

 

“Sherlock, you know what I want.” Molly was in a full knock-out sexpot outfit, now almost entirely exposed before him and breathlessly winding her fingers through his hair, and she couldn’t get out a dirty word?

 

“The Molly I’m looking at seems to have no problem taking what she wants.” Sherlock laughed as he continued his tease on her soft mounds.

 

“She asks for what she wants. Mmmm maybe even begs for it if prompted?” His tongue now achingly close to where she wants it, Molly shifts her body to position her right nipple at his lips, and lets out a tiny moan so perfect that Sherlock smiles at her craftiness and begins to lick and nibble at her. Molly’s reaction is even more intense than he’d expected, and her body is grinding into his core now. He walks his right hand up to her other nipple and swipes along it with two fingers, tweaking and rolling it with varying pressure and basking in her eyes-shut, full-body response.

 

“Molly, my God, you are beautiful like this.” Sherlock is surprised and delighted to find her so engulfed in his caress, that he suddenly trails his free hand down her stomach, over her garter belt, and straight to the neatly trimmed patch of dark hair above her pussy. In his captivation with her tits he hadn’t noticed that Molly was wearing nothing under her skirted bustier. His fingers find her folds as Molly moans out “When I think about you touching me, just imagining you nibbling my nipples gets me so wet. But when you do that,… oh….mmmm”

 

Sherlock finds her sopping, so wet she is dripping down her thigh, and he files it away that he must eventually dedicate an evening just to teasing and stroking her nipples until she…

 

“Molly, I am going to undo you tonight.” He pulls his mouth up while his hand lingers stilled at her entrance. “I want to hear you moan like this, watch you writhe around, feel your wet cunt, taste it, make you come so hard that you’ll be screaming out my name, and then fuck you through it and make you come again.”

 

“Sherlock!” Molly pulls his mouth to hers and kisses him roughly, this time biting at his lower lip hard enough to get a squeal from him. “Mmmm he makes naughty noises too.” Molly coos coyly as she untucks his button down and pulls it hastily over his head. “Just evening out the playing field, darling” Molly says as she drags her nails along his bare back, pressing her nipples to his chest and running her lips over his jawline and relishing how his head tilts back at the distractingly perfect things she’s doing to him.

 

Sherlock breathes deeply, then rights himself and swiftly pushes Molly back, flat against the surface of the warm bartop. Her thighs come up around him, as her eyes flash, her hands pulling him down onto her, feeling the solid weight of him. His left hand holding both her wrists, he kisses down her collarbone and trails his right hand down her hip, drawing lazy figure 8s down into her thighs and back up, getting ever closer to her core again.

 

“Do you imagine me holding you down, helpless to my touch like this?” He croons into her neck.

 

“unngg… yes….” Molly manages.

 

“And now that I’m here, all yours Ms. Molly Hooper, wouldn’t you love for me to slide my fingers into you?”

 

“I would like that very much.” Molly sighs as his digits swipe teasing strokes over her clit. The sensation is somehow heightened with the way his touch is both confident, but somehow also restrained. Unsure, but as a happy accident, he's on the mark.

 

“But what I would love, is to feel your cock deep inside me.” The thought of being buried inside her sends Sherlock into overdrive and he plunges his middle finger into her tight passage.

 

“God you’re so tight, I think I might have to make you come once before you can take my whole cock.” Sherlock kisses her hard before moving his mouth down to her neck, all the while softly sliding his finger in, committing her insides to memory the way the image of her as he walked into her flat is forever seared. _The mind palace will need to make some room for tonight,_ Sherlock smirked against Molly’s ear. 

 

Molly could only think _Just how big IS he?_ as she felt her body tightening and relaxing somehow at once, the way Sherlock was coaxing this mewling sound from her, it was hard to focus on her own pleasure when the thought of his still unexplored body crept into her mind. And hearing his voice, molasses, and saying these nasty and lovely things. Knowing he’d been wanting this as much as she had. Molly had to touch him.

 

“Sherlock…oohhh… give me…” Molly couldn’t get the words out, and his hand was telling her what she wanted, adding another finger and so gently teasing at her clit. Molly’s hands went to his trousers, prying at his belt and wanting to have more skin to feel on hers. She suddenly felt very exposed. Sensing this, Sherlock stilled his hand inside her, ran his other up along her collarbone, looked into her eyes and planted a soft kiss to her lips, inhaling deeply. Savouring. Molly’s eyes skimmed over his warm chest and she pulled him down to her, in a lover’s hug. The weight of him felt perfect.

 

“Give me…that. Give me you.” Was all Molly could say, using her heels to pull his pants down past his knees, pooling at his feet. He kicked them off along with his shoes, and took the moment to take her left ankle, bending her knee up to kiss at where the shoe met her pale skin.

 

“In case it wasn’t clear, I would take you in plain white tennis shoes the same way. But I do love these.” Sherlock was understanding why so many men got into these types of get-ups. He licked from the tip of the heel up the line his eye traced when he first saw Molly in the moonlight. He extended her leg up, sliding his mouth along into the curve behind her knee, and Molly shivered and giggled. She’d never felt a sensation like that in such a sensitive and untouched area. In his traverse down her thigh, he slowed down and paused at the tender skin where her thigh met her thoroughly damp pussy.

 

Molly’s head shot up, her ankle resting on his shoulder, and boldy lifted herself up, pushing him to stand. Challenge in her eyes, Sherlock took her movements and let her guide him. His deep inhale relaxed into a frustrated growl, knowing he would have to wait to taste her.

 

Molly’s hand reached down to peel Sherlock’s white jockey shorts off, pausing to glide one finger down his length through the fabric. He had clearly been straining against them, hard as a rock. She felt proud and more turned on somehow, knowing she had this effect. A playful tug at the band made a tiny sound against his skin, the briefest sting, and Sherlock had to pull himself to her, grasping with less grace than he’d meant to at her, taking her mouth with his again.

 

“Molly, My god, I want to taste you…ohhh” Molly’s hands at his hips, pulling him towards her center, the white fabric wettening from her own juices.

 

“Me first” Molly was devilish now, and loving the feeling. She hopped off the counter and spun Sherlock around, now standing much shorter having had her heels knocked off in their frantic kisses. She pushed him against it, her hands sliding down his bare chest, tracing the trail of fuzz down his navel, amazed at the lines that flanked his hips and lead her to what she was most curious to have.

 

Sherlock shivered, head back, as her mouth made soft kisses and bites down towards his thighs, teasing him back to spite him. She gracelessly pulled his pants right off, allowing him to step out of them, joining the party of discarded garments.The moment he looked down at her was the moment she chose to lock eyes with him and lick a circle around the head of his dick. A moan escaped him, he felt like an animal, conflicted in wanting to devour her and to let her have him as she saw fit. His hands made their way to her soft shoulders, her neck, into her hair. Molly ran her tongue along him, her hands at his arse, pulling him into her mouth. Sherlock was starting to move into the feeling, images of her speaking to him now filled with thoughts of her doing this, in the lab, at the Christmas party when we was a complete knob to her, all of it retroactively altering his memories to include her beautiful mouth on him everywhere.

 

Molly’s pace sped up and slowed down, her hands now on the base of his shaft, slick with her own saliva, twisting her wrist as she popped him down into her mouth and sucked deep on her way back up.

 

“Molly, uggggh…I’ve never…no one has made me feel…”

 

She licked his tip again and continued spinning her hands over him, up, down, swirling her fingertips teasingly, cupping his balls to see what he might like, all of it eliciting moans and oohs and whimpers. All of it music to her ears.

 

“Just let me, let me hear you. “

 

At last she took him into her mouth, slowly and fully, surprised and incredibly turned on by her ability to swallow every inch of his considerable length. She’d been a fan of blow jobs but found few of her lovers lasted as long or cared as much about her ability to take them all the way in. Sherlock was easily the biggest she’d ever felt, and when the back of her throat felt the tip, he let out a growl and pulled her off, up to her feet, swiping her up and around his waist.

 

“Oh you are going to get it Molly.” Sherlock swept through her living room into her bedroom, sucking hard at her neck as he went, more worked up than she’d ever seen him before. He deposited her gently on the bed, pausing their tense movements to one more time take in the sight of her. He slid her stockings down, allowing only the garter to stay in place, and rid himself of his socks. To be bare with her felt like heaven. Her hair a lovely mess upon silk pillows, he watched her squirm and he prowled up her body, letting his legs rest against hers and settling himself just above her.

 

Molly was still, trapped between wanting to be made whole again by his touch, and carrying this moment into forever.

 

“You’ve always been the only thing I can never completely unravel, but I crave it. I crave you, and to please you and discover you like this…” Sherlock couldn’t meet her eyeline instead darting the deep green set over her soft form. He felt her in his blood.

 

“Sherlock, I’m afraid you’re stating the obvious. And stalling.” She smiled sweetly up at him and kissed the place above his furrowed, unsure brows. Then it made sense to her.

 

“You didn’t, you haven’t…with Ms. Ad-“

 

Sherlock felt himself tense, unsure of how to make his feelings clear without exposing more than she’d want to hear. He was educated in sex, clinically adept. But the Woman was not but a chapter of that book for him, one which he felt served him only as a means of finding out what turned him on. And what didn’t.

 

“No. She was a game, a mystery I enjoyed solving. Perhaps more for my own interests, to know what I was capable of feeling. But I am starting to wonder if maybe you are a case I am not sure I’ll ever have all the answers to.”

 

“It’s wonderfully freeing isn’t it? Sherlock?”

 

“Molly, it is a reason for living. To see you standing there tonight, awaiting me, but so in control of just how you wanted this.”

 

He leant down and gently kissed at her neck, only to feel his now achingly throbbing member slide into the crease between her thighs. She’d been rubbing them together, waiting for contact, and they both gasped at the suddenness of such a tender, accidental spark.

 

“I have a feeling it will feel like this every time with you, Molly.” His voice was dripping into the lowest register it could, coming to a near whisper. She felt it on her mouth and kissed him, pulling her to him as his tip parted her wet folds and made contact with her sensitive clit.

 

Molly’s legs parted and bent to either side of his larger frame, her hands came to rest on his face, slid down to his back and held to his hips, slightly raising her own to show him she was more than ready. Sherlock took his time gliding his length against her again, letting the tip slide up along her swollen lips, reveling in this new sensation, vastly different from her mouth, incomparable to anything before.

 

Her expression of pure bliss as he moved again, teasing her slick entrance, and his own rock-hard cock, made Sherlock melt and exhale the tiniest string of words into Molly’s ear. It was as much a staggeringly honest admission as it was an awestruck question, and Sherlock felt it as deeply as Molly heard it.

 

“This is love.”

 

Molly’s breath hitched as the room around her disappeared. She felt him grasp her hand in his, felt his forehead drop to hers, then felt _it._

 

Sherlock Holmes was inside her.

 

His thickness, his length, was slowly stretching her tight passage. Nothing had ever felt as perfect to Sherlock as the way she enveloped him. His body shuddered and he opened his eyes to find her staring up at him, a guttural moan pouring from her as he pushed halfway in and stilled.

 

“Oh my God, Mol-“ Before he could finish, she was attacking his mouth with her own, chasing the feeling of him inside her by pushing his arse down with her heels, searching for more despite his size being unbearably intense. A whimper caught in her throat as he wrapped a hand behind her back and held her tightly.

 

Molly pulled his lips in to hers, bit down almost harder than she had meant to, and let him slide out almost completely before deciding that was too far and pulling him back in. _This might be his first rodeo_ , Molly mused to herself, _but there will be time later for him to explore me with all of his metrics._

 

“Sherlock, Oh god you are perfect. So big…” Molly was wondering just exactly how much of him would fit, when his hips seemed to buck without his intent, and she felt her eyes roll up, her back arch, every cell a torch inside her, the sensation spreading out to the tips of her toes as he filled her up completely.

 

Sherlock’s hands steadied himself and he drew back, pulling out of her completely, a moan from the back of his throat as he registered how tight she was, how warm her body was beneath him. His wonderment at the sensation was making each movement a calculated one, and Molly was dying to feel more. Sherlock saw her eyes close, her hands clenching into the sheets as he thrust in again, this time with more fluidity. More control. He cherished her response.

 

“Oh darling, you are radiant like this.” Another thrust in, a pause.

 

He was starting to focus on just how much she was enjoying this, the feeling inside of him transforming from sheer bewilderment to a pulling desire to pleasure her. Molly hummed and her mouth opened softly. Another thrust, this time shallow, quickly in and out just at her entrance. Molly pulled his hips in, needing to have more. Loving and hating the game. He understood the reward for his slow, deep push in could come in the form of a moan, a sigh, her hand tangling up into his hair. She was so expressive to him, and he would make it his mission to unearth each and every touch that might make her come alive for him.

 

“Sher…lock… oooh” Molly’s voice began to rise. The tentative speed he kept was growing, his pace quickening as he grew emboldened by the noises she made. And by the fact that her hands were now tightly grabbing at his backside, her legs wrapped tightly around him. He decided to take back the situation.

 

“Those sounds you make, I want to know every one. Will you get loud for me Molly?” He leaned back onto his heels, pulling her legs up over his shoulders, massaging the flesh of her calves, her knees, her thighs, all the while varying deep and fast thrusts with shallow, slow ones. His balance in this position let him see every inch of her, and she lifted her head, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of their bodies connecting. For Molly, too, it felt like a first time. The excitement and awe that Sherlock felt was only matched by just how much Molly seemed to be enjoying herself. His pride gave him further courage, and he elected to pull out of her completely just as her moans became ragged, to bend down and lap at her clit, tasting the combination of her wetness and his precum. God if the sweet saltiness wasn’t the best thing he’d ever tasted.

 

“Sherlock, holy fucking hell.” Molly cursing in the heat of arousal just about made him come.

 

Instead, he swirled his tongue over the hood of her clit, at first not wanting to over stimulate her. He spread her lips open enough to lick at the pink flesh just beneath it, knowing it was likely too much but needing to have her at his mercy. She yelped and he soothed her with a gentle swipe from the base of her hole, his tongue plunging into her experimentally, watching her knees come up and feeling her hands in his hair again.

 

“Your tongue is going to undo me, Sherlock, please…please.” Breathless, glowing, on the brink he’d brought her to. A wolfish grin at his lips, he swirled over her clit again, knowing he wouldn’t last long once he was back inside her.

 

“Begging for me to make you come, I knew you would.” Two fingers inside her now, this time shallow and pressing up against the spongy place he knew would be swollen and ever tightening her. He’d read up extensively on women who squirt, choosing not to divulge that he’d seen her do this once from his perch in the den when she’d come home unaware of his presence.

 

Molly was feeling the warmth and tension growing deep and low in her belly at how Sherlock was finding that spot, that rhythm, one which she'd only discovered recently for herself and hadn't had much time to get used to the intensity of. It was thrilling and nerve-wracking.

“Oh no, oh fuck Sherlock, you…do you know what…” She couldn’t finish the sentence before he was pushing into her with three fingers now, gliding his tongue along her clit, hearing her conflicted protests, knowing exactly what he was doing. As he felt her body move into it, betting on her mewls and gyrations to be all the signs of her orgasm approaching, he pulled himself up and plunged his cock into her, her eyes flying open as he spoke into her ear.

 

“Do you want to come for me Molly?” Her reply was only a soft nod, followed by a harsh, sudden scream as he pulled out swiftly and gave it to her again, harder this time.

 

Sherlock’s thrusts were wild and deep, he was panting and hooking his arms under her shoulders, slapping his hips against her while her nails dug into his back in beautiful agony. He knew what was going to send them both over the edge. Her beautiful screams as he pumped in and out, her filthy words in his ear.

 

“Nobody has ever been this deep inside me, holy fucking Christ.”

 

Deeper still, kissing her and nibbling on her nipples now with each thrust.

 

“Fuck Molly, I can feel you tightening around me. You’re going to come so hard all over my cock. Take every inch.”

 

Now his middle finger down at her nub again, applying perfect pressure to it, letting it press with every plunge into her.

 

“Sherlock, I want to feel you come inside me. Please.”

 

"You want it?" Sherlock's voice boomed.

 

"Yes!" Molly choked out. 

 

Then, with his eyes locked onto hers. "Come for me."

 

Sherlock pulled her up by her hips, lifting them right off the bed and pounding into her at the angle she needed, watching her pull him in as she exploded around him, gushing out of her tight channel, feeling the spasms on his cock as his hips struggled to stay with hers, feeling her cunt come around him while he pulled her to him once more, as deep as his massive cock could go, pouring out into her and calling out her name as she screamed his.

 

His thrusts gently continued, the way her wetness covered his dick made it so slick, riding out her orgasm and feeling every aftershock as he threw his mouth to hers, his weight on her now while he stroked her cheek and kissed her first roughly, thoroughly, then languidly. Though he had expected to soften inside her, his half-hard cock twitched slightly despite having spent itself, and her moans seemed to continue as he lazily moved his hips.

 

“Sherlock, I…” But Molly was pulling him into her again, the sensation of his patchy curls hitting her sensitive clit. She was shuddering in both relief and some kind of tension he didn’t understand. Then what he’d read in preparation for this night came back to him.

 

He could make her come again. Right now.

 

“Yes, yes goddamnit Molly, you want to come again for me?”

 

Molly had never felt this much built up sensation before, but she’d also never had such a huge cock make her squirt, either. Before she could censor herself, caught in her blissful sexed up state, she pulled his hand to her mouth, tasting her wetness and pushing his hand back down to her now soaked pussy, this time lower than before.

 

Sherlock nearly passed out from the thought- did Molly want him to…?

 

“I want…please, put your…” Again with his ability to read her mind, Sherlock’s animal side came out and he shut her mouth with his own, moving his finger down through her slit to her tight asshole. The thrill of what he was about to do was overridden by her obviously tenuous grip on exactly how close she was to another orgasm. His left hand came to pinch her nipple, knowing just how hard he could roll it between his fingers when she was so close to the brink. Again. For him.

 

He circled the opening gently, biting at her bottom lip and hearing another of Molly’s noises surface, this one proving to be the best yet. As he pushed gently in, running his thumb over her clit softly, he heard a growl from somewhere low inside of her, knowing the wolf in her had also come out. It was with one digit sliding slowly into her and again Molly was coming around him, her eyes shut tight and her scream swallowed by his mouth. Her body writhes, hips bucking into him as he smoothes his hands down her form, gently pulling out his finger and resting his head against her chest. Planting a tiny kiss to her sensitive flesh, hearing her giggle softly, in disbelief at her undoing. As Molly let her hands come up around him, feeling each of their heaving chests begin to calm as the air around them cooled their damp, warm skin. Sherlock lay against her like this, running slight, uncoordinated lines along her arm, feeling her turn away and shimmy herself back to him. Sherlock pulled her to him, aligning their bodies to make contact with as much of her as he could. She sighed heavily, basking in the comfort of having been so entirely turned inside out by this lovely man. Molly smiled to herself as she took his hand, fingers splayed against her own, and held him to her breast, her heartbeat gradually steadying. 

 

His grasp on her hip tightened, feeling her soft bare backside against his sensitive cock, wanting to be inside of her again but knowing this moment was about something else entirely. A kiss to her neck, a gentle turn of her face to his for one more glance and one more lazy, lovely tangling of tongues. Sherlock had to whisper once more, the heat from his mouth breezing into her ear.

“Molly, I want to do this with you always. “

 

Just as the pair began to doze off together, so came Molly’s promising reply.

 

“You have me, Mr. Holmes.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first published fic, been shipping privately and thought it high time to see if the heat between these two in my mind was worth sharing. Major smut to follow, isn't the slow burn build up the best path to porn?
> 
> Title and Chapters taken from Feeling the Pull by The Swell Season. MAJOR smutty smut smut to follow. Please comment on anything and everything, and what you'd like to see in their sexy times.
> 
> SMUT HAS ARRIVED!


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